


Mission Accomplished

by elle_nic



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/F, Kissing, Sort Of Dirty Talk, Swearing, miranda is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_nic/pseuds/elle_nic
Summary: From the prompt: stolen kiss.“Presumptuous,” Andy teased, nodding pointedly at the door.“Opportunistic,” Miranda countered, striding forward and into Andy’s arms.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 21
Kudos: 229
Collections: 4sk





	Mission Accomplished

She had a mission. Daring was not Andy’s usual modus operandi but tonight was an exception. Dressed top to toe in Versace, green and eye catching, she could not afford to make any audacious moves, especially with Miranda in attendance. But goddam, the woman _knew_ what she was doing. She _knew_ it. So fucking smug. Dressed in black, as she usually was, Miranda glowed against the chandelier light… The word ‘resplendent’ came to mind. The word ‘edible’ shortly behind that. The thigh high slit in her dress was nearly indecent, the neckline had _depth_ and bare shoulders? Andy thought she had a dream like this once.

And damn her, but she’d dressed Andy (not that anyone knew that) in the most alluring green gown that everyone seemed to fawn over. She could hardly make a break from the crowds there to congratulate her on her nomination. Outwardly, as Miranda had helped her to learn, she was cool and eloquent, gracious to boot. Inwardly, she was drooling at her lover’s figure and snarling at anyone, man or woman, who dared to touch Miranda.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” she said to a man who was a finance accountant by day and nonfiction writer by night (dull, in other words). She made her way to the group of people where Miranda was schmoosing, and with the flick of her skirts, she managed to subtly catch the attention of the man who was speaking to a perfectly composed Miranda. His looking at her prompted Miranda to turn, just as Andy hoped it would, and with a seemingly passing glance, Andy had deemed it a successful mission.

She was several steps ahead when she heard, “Ryan, dear, do pardon me for a moment.”

“Score,” she whispered under her breath as she walked.

She had been to this hall before and knew that just around the corridor was a conveniently placed lunch room that was never used _and_ had a lock. She had grand plans to make proper use of that one day, but unfortunately, being a nominee and wearing such a noticeable dress, Andy wouldn’t have enough time to properly utilise the facets of the room. For now, though, it would have to do.

She was only in the room for half a minute or so when Miranda entered behind her, closing the door softly and flicking the lock.

“Presumptuous,” Andy teased, nodding pointedly at the door.

“Opportunistic,” Miranda countered, striding forward and into Andy’s arms.

The kiss was lethargic at first, both of them adjusting to the privacy they were being afforded and simply enjoying it. It only lasted a moment, however, before Andy acknowledged just how limited their time was. She pressed closer into Miranda, let her right hand wander to the split in the dress and grip a flexing thigh. The sparse furnishings of the room (a single, long wooden table and several stacks of plastic chairs near the walls) were more than enough to manoeuvre Miranda how she wanted her.

“Oh,” Miranda breathed as she was placed on the tabletop. She grappled for Andy to come back to her mouth, careful not to muss their hair at all. Andy, with all the restraint she possessed (which was admittedly not all the much when it came to Miranda), pulled herself back from the deeper kisses and into a shallower but no less passionate kind. She could hear Miranda’s heavy breath, feel it land in warm puffs against her mouth and cheeks and smiled.

“You’re so lucky I’m nominated,” she said. Miranda, eyes closed until then, quirked a brow.

“Am I just?”

“Mhmm,” Andy hummed, running her nails along Miranda’s exposed thighs, ignoring how her mouth was watering. “I’d fuck you on this table if we had the time.” Andy grinned when Miranda huffed in what the older woman would call exasperation. Andy knew it was from disappointment, though. There wasn’t enough time and Miranda seemed to know that.

“We have a perfectly good table at home.”

“Home is hours away,” Andy mourned.

“Hush now,” Miranda said, brushing a strand of dark auburn hair back into place. Her thumb moved to full lips and tidied the lipstick there. “You’re nervous.”

“Am not,” Andy sulked.

“Just a few hours, darling.”

Andy nodded forlornly.

“One more for the road?” she asks, puckering her lips into a pout. Miranda leans in and presses a firm kiss to her mouth. Andy watches as she pulls back, sees Andy’s pout lingering and peppers kisses softly around her mouth, heedless of the lipstick painted around their lips. Andy’s smile brings the attack to a gentle halt. And then they simply breathe.

“Stand still.”

Miranda applies both their lipstick (they have to make do with Miranda’s shade, which was different to Andy’s) but within moments they’re both ready to return to the theatre. It’s just as well, Andy thinks, because they’ve been gone for too long already. It doesn’t soothe her a bit that Nigel bumps into them.

“Looking for Miranda,” he said in explanation, eyeing their lipstick and frowning. “Good to see you both… interacting.”

“Better get to your seat,” Miranda says coolly to him. Nigel nods and saunters off, but Andy can see a hint of scurry in his gait. “I fear the act may be up, darling,” Miranda murmurs quietly. “It won’t take him long to connect the dots.”

“Well, as long as we can still connect _our_ dots, I don’t mind,” Andy said cheekily, grinning before stalking away.

“Honestly,” she hears Miranda scoff from behind her.

She grinned as she walked to her seat, and then as she won the Pulitzer. People would tell her all her life how happy she looked when she received her first award. She’d make something up like “I never expected it could have been me”, but truthfully? Truthfully, she was thinking about ravishing her lover on the perfectly good table they had at home.

Mission accomplished.


End file.
